


I have had just about enough of myself.

by soulhead



Series: Footage de gueule [7]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulhead/pseuds/soulhead
Summary: What if I tried to be what I see in your iris for a change ?Or, the tribulations of Kylian, facing the immense pressure on his shoulders and the constant coldness that threatens to engulf him.





	I have had just about enough of myself.

On his team resting day, the sun is still low in the sky when Kylian first stares at the goal that was set up in his backyard.

He can't afford this time of respite.

In front of him, this white cage stands proud almost as if it was taunting him, like this inanimate object knows what he's about to start doing.

Penalties are often viewed as the ugly and unfair part of football that relies purely on odds.

Yet, he knows he's a liability when it comes to them. He doesn't put enough intensity whenever he shoots, always relies on the same spot to aim at. He heard the complete list of everything wrong with his technique enough time to have it memorized forever in his head.

Concentrate, breathe, shoot and score.

It should be easy, but he's desperately lacking in this department.

If he wants to get better, if he wants to stop being a liability: resting days aren't an option.

Concentrate,

Breathe,

Shoot,

_and score !_

***

Score, score, score.

Since he's six, it's all he lives for and it's always been a driving force in his life. Yet, he has to wait 11 years until the 20th february of 2016 to finally mark his first goal in a professional game against ES Troyes AC. It's only logical then, that the bone deep cold that will define most of the following years in his life chooses this evening to settle in his organism.

On this life-changing saturday evening, the match has already ended for almost a hour, yet he's still loudly celebrating with his teammates as they lazily ready themselves out of their locker-room.

“Hey Kyky, look like dad and mommy are there to congratulate you, Joao told me he saw your parents at the second floor ! !” mischievously says Lemar who was trailing beside him.

“Shut up ! At least I've got something to celebrate with them, I don't remember you scoring tonight !” he manages to reply before barely avoiding a slap from Lemar's hand.

“Get off my sight you brat !” he hears as he heads to the stairs, happy to be able to celebrate with his parents. Usually, the second floor is mostly used by the club executives, his parents must have once again lost themselves in the facility.

When he spots them, they are in one of the transparent office used by the administration of the club, they both seems engaged in an intense discussion with a middle-aged man that seems vaguely familiar to him.

Without thinking, he enters the room and instantly notices Ethan, his little brother who is reading a comic on one of the long sofa furnishing the relatively bare room.

« Kylian, you scored!!!! It was amazing ! » Ethan's high-pitched voice resonates in the office as he quickly throws his reading and run to jump into his arms.

«  Yes! I did ! » he laughs delightfully as he start spinning his brother around, until he catches the surprisingly disapproving stares of his parents.

«  Kylian. This is Luis Campos, the sporting director of the club, he he was just saying he wanted to invite us to dinner tonight to celebrate your first goal in the main team. » his mother declares, her eyes icy and digging holes into Kylian, like he interrupted a discussion he should not have.

As he suddenly remembers that his little brother is still dangling off his arms, he hurriedly let Ethan down despite his obnoxious whining.

« Hi, sorry Mister Campos for interrupting your conversation...»

« Oh please Kylian, it's no problem, we were almost finished, why don't you come with us ? There's nothing like a good dinner to celebrate a milestone like scoring your first professional goal !»

He spends the rest of the evening pretending he didn't notice how neither of his parents congratulated him and how them and mister Campos spends most of the dinner talking in small hushed tones while he listens to Ethan raving about the match.

On this life-changing saturday, he has no time to wonder why he seems to be the only one affected by an unpleasant chilly wind seemingly coming from nowhere.

***

One week later, his father presented to him an early draft of his first professional contract.

And when he crosses the glare of father as he hands him over this document, he swallows back the «  Are you proud of your son, papa ? » he has wanted to ask his parents for the last seven day.

He has to work harder, to be more focused, to stop fooling around.

He can't afford to behave so light-headedly anymore, not with his first professional contract soon to be signed.

It's what his father tells him at the end of every matches and every trainings he now regularly attends, scrutinizing his every moves.

He just wants it to be over, for the contract to be signed, to pose for the journalists with a smile plastered on his face and to finally go back to his daily life.

He's tired of wondering for how long this shadow of disappointment has lured in his parent's eyes without him noticing. Hopefully, they will soon warm up to him and their distant behavior will cease.

In the meantime, _he has to be better._

***

The season that follows, he's shaping himself to be one of the best scorers of the Ligue 1. It's undeniably something in his life he's progressed at. At night, when he can't seems to will himself to sleep and when two duvets aren't enough to warm him, this ascertainment makes him wish he only lived on the pitch.

There at least, the chants of the supporters quiet down the constant streams of self-doubts coursing through to his mind. With their boisterous songs, he feels proud of himself, ready to take on whatever challenge is thrown at him. The only interactions he has to have with his teammates are following their calls or the orders of his captain. They don't need to engage in discussions and he won't have to notice how awkward everything has become. He can ignore the ever-growing gulf, fed by all the media talk surrounding him and his possible move to PSG, that separates him and his teammates.

When he's disputing a match, he can pretends his lungs are hurting because of the lack of the oxygen after running too fast. He can imagine that among the thousands of faces sitting in the stadium, his parents aren't there, watching him and inevitably being disappointed by him.

Pretending is something he's getting good at.

***

Score, score, score.

Ever noticed how after so many repetitions the word starts to lose it's meaning ?

In Paris, for the first time since too long, he feels a small stream of warm air reddening his cheekbones.

There, he's just one of many promising or already fulfilled talents. When he trains, his father often looks elsewhere, eyes starstruck by the legends playing by his side.

It means he doesn't notice how Kylian keeps fucking up during training.

It's a relief.

Furthermore, his new teammates tease him for his young age, his nasal voice or even about how he always wear a jumper even during summer. Yet, there's not a ounce of malice in their jokes and he's never been more grateful for that. They treat him like he's just Kylian, just 20 years old and he still has so much to learn. His potential once again starts to be a hopeful promise, not an onus.

He's not sure if he'll ever be able to thank them.

His heart swells when Presnel playfully keeps him under a tight headlock when he arrives in the morning instead of greeting him normally, when Alphonse brings his two daughters to the training ground and he plays with them. It's bigger gestures too, like when their new coach routinely tries to make small talk to him, yet listen to his answer with genuine care or when he takes a nap in the training facility and wake up with Julian's coat draped like a blanket around him. He always ends up making a show of grumpily giving back Julian's coat to him. He feigns to be annoyed at those gestures, he complains that he's not a kid and that he doesn't need extra-care !

***

_The truth is, he does feel like needing extra-care, but he doesn't know how to ask._

On a particularly bad week, he ends up taking the coat with him back to his house.

It's nothing really, he'll mimic forgetfulness when he'll give it back to Julian the following morning.

It's just that he's hasn't been able to score for the past 3 matches: his father's disapproving glares seems like a permanent default setting on his face and he's felt sick those last few days. He just needs a friend, his parents, a lover, _anyone_ to hold close to calm his mind and allow him to rest.

He doesn't know how to ask, _or even_ _if he can ask at all._

Julian's coat and the subtle fragrance emanating from it seem to do the trick as he wakes up the following morning more rested than he's been for a long, long time.

For all the pretending he does on a daily basis, he must be a worst actor than he thought he was, considering the forced smile Julian gives him when he returns him the coat.

Luckily for him, this particular moment of weakness happens just before the international break and while flying to Russia, he prays Julian kept his mouth shut to Presnel and Alphonse, his teammates both in his club and national team.

***

Judging by the way Presnel seems to find any excuse to hug him during the entire competition, _of course_ Julian told Presnel. This time, he doesn't even bother putting on a show and actively seeks Presnel's warmth.

***

Their month in Russia flies by too fast and as soon as they won the finale, every moments of celebration between him and his teammates feel like a farewell. A goodbye, the finality to this golden parenthesis, where he could act like he was too busy to hold any discussion with his parents.

He's the most prominent goal scorer of the french national team alongside Antoine. This statistic will be the proof he didn't try hard enough to his parents. Being first on equal footing with another teammate means being second. _Second means failure._

He never want his teammate's euphoric chants to stop, he never wants to come back to his family. He doesn't want to be the spectator to another never-ending meal with a representant from Real Madrid or Manchester united where his own mother, the very person that carried him during nine months, happily suggest to any listener that he's not from this planet because that the only explanation for his talent. He want to scream just at this idea. He want to tell her “ _Don't you remember ? I used to be just Kylian. I'm him, I'm your son !”,_ but all it'll earn him will be the disapproving look of her mother.

He's not sure for how long he'll be able to take the constant paradoxical speech of his parents : listing him all the flaws they can see, yet behaving like he has none in public.

_He's nearly there anyway, he's almost getting better._

***

What is it with germans in this club and their caring eyes ?

A new defender has arrived just as club season started : his name is Thilo, he smiles effortlessly just like he speaks french and Kylian swears he will see a little bit of Julian in his new teammate's eyes if he gets lost for too long in the almond of his irises.

During their first training session, they are paired together, he's supposed to dribble through one of the three little gates made by cones behind Thilo. It should make him train on his footwork and his ability to think fast.

It feels like a dance.

He ends up being unable to dribble past him. Somewhere in the benches, his father looks at him disapprovingly.

He's feeling too feverish from the waltz they just shared to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly at first it was a fic about Neymar and Kylian but then Neymar decided to be the usual dumbass that he is, except 10 times worse than usual, so yeah, no fic about him lol. Anyway, i really enjoyed writing about Kylian, even if I wanted to introduce Thilo in the fic waaay earlier, but finally he only appears at the end...


End file.
